I’m waiting nervously.

I never get nervous about first dates, but here I am, battling a fluttering gut and palpitating heart.

In less than 20 minutes he’ll round the corner and I will feel his arms around me as we hug hello.  I will get to fill my nostrils with his scent and feel the vibrations of his own nerves through my fingertips.

I’ve strategically placed my purse on the seat so he must sit as close to me as possible.  I don’t think he will mind.

The hotel lounge fragrance is both sweet and decadent and the staff are politely chatting with one another as bottles clink and ice is scooped.  A gentle, pulsing melody floats overhead.

I’ve shaved my legs and even my pussy, but didn’t wash my hair.  It’s my way to syche out the Universe.  Or confuse it.  I don’t know what I want with this young man tonight.  

All I know is that if I had not shaved my overgrown snatch, he absolutely for sure would have ended up with his face buried in it later.  

I’m Mrs. Robinson.

“People are coming” I whispered into his neck.  The two people and their dogs I’d spotted down the street continued to walk toward the two of us leaning against my car under the streetlight.  The thick night pressed in around us.

At 6 foot 4 he he stooped to hook his long fingers into me and straightened as he removed himself from between my legs.  I moaned a little.

As the dog walkers passed, he rolled me to the side and pressed my back against my car door and bent to kiss me again.  We’d been kissing for minutes on end and my neck was beginning to hurt, my feet cramp from lifting up to meet him, but it was magnificent.

He paused and I said, “What should I call you when I write about you in my diary?”

“You can call me Remington Steele,” he laughed, in reference to a lame character reference I’d made earlier in the night.  I had been surprised he’d even heard of the show.  Remington is only 24.

When we first met at the dive bar yesterday I wasn’t at all sure how our date would go.  He was trim and wore a button-down dark green shirt and had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow; he wore black sneakers and Ray-Bans and was quite dashing, but also obviously very, very young.  He’s also wickedly smart, but too busy for a girlfriend.  He wants something ongoing, fun, exploratory and respectful.

When he saw me walk in his eyes lit up and we hugged, got some drinks and began to chat.  His face cracked into a smile often and he was open and interesting.  This was his first date off of AFF.

I ran into a girlfriend and as we ordered beers at the bar she lowered her voice and whispered, “He’s awfully young, isn’t he, Hy?”  I laughed and shrugged.

“I’m totally your Mrs. Robinson, aren’t I?” I teased him when I returned to our table.

“Yeah, kinda.  I like older women,” he admitted.

He wants to be my pool boy and shyly shared that he wants to explore his submissive side which is why, out by my car in the dark with random passersby, I was so taken aback at his bold moves, his confidence.  He blew me away with his skill and expertise and each time he released my mouth I would lower to my heels and shake my head, dizzy with desire, not sure where to catalog this young man.

We’ve made a date for Friday afternoon where we can test out his pool boy skills.

Fifteen years between us… holy shit, what am I getting myself into??

I doubled up.

The words “double date” tickle me because these days it means something entirely different than two couples out on the town together.  For me it’s two dates back-to-back in one evening.  Holla.  How’s that for some great double date ideas??

This past Friday was certainly not my first, but it was certainly my best double date in recent memory.  The last double date I had, I forgot about Date #1 completely and didn’t include him in my own list of who I was datingOops.

Date #1 lucked out and caught me at a time in my week where I was both available and feeling open-minded.  He messaged me on Tinder, but never acknowledged my preference for gold wrappers.  I ignored it and figured he knew what it all meant and followed his lead.  He was smart and quick and even though I’d already made a date with a tall drink of water for around 8 o’clock on Friday night I decided that I could handle a warm-up date with this nerdy surprise.

Date #2 was with a 29 year old lawyer.  An impossibly tall young man with whom I had established my golden wrapper requisite.  “I know what you’re talking about,” he’d messaged.  “I use them.”  I’d explained my preference while blushing furiously.  It never gets easy being a size queen.

I drove to meet Mr. Nerdy with a light heart.  My graphic tee was mostly see-through and my legs looked long in high-heeled wedges.  I had nothing to lose if this went badly; I couldn’t wait to meet The Lawyer at 8.

“I’m in the green shirt,” Mr. Nerdy texted.  I took a deep breath and walked out onto the patio littered with people drinking wine and eating cheese.

Our eyes locked and we both smiled.  He stood to hug me hello and he towered over me.  He was taller than I had imagined.  And more muscular.

We ordered some drinks and settled in.  I laughed and maneuvered through the date with a sense of fun I wore like perfume.  It enveloped us both.  We opened up, we flirted, we shared, we set boundaries.  He was far more attractive than his pictures let on and I couldn’t take my eyes off his broad shoulders and tapered waist.  When he moved his chair closer to my knees and casually dropped his hand on my warm skin my eyes locked with his and we laughed.  We knew we were a match.

He walked me to my car when I realized I was close to being late to my next engagement.  “Do you have another date?” he’d asked.

“No,” I’d blithely lied.

I hooked my arm through his elbow and thanked him for being tall enough to wear my heels.  He chuckled and squeezed my hand.  When we got to my car I turned to him and put my hands on his hips and pulled him towards me and his soft lips pressed into mine.  I looped my hands up to his shoulders and gently massaged him as he wrapped his arms around me.

We had hammered out every detail: we are both looking for passion, for connection, for something steady, maybe a launching off point for something more serious.  He alluded to being kinky and bold; I’d alluded to compliance and perversion.  His mouth plied mine with warmth and verve.  I moaned a little and arched into him and hoped I wasn’t getting beard burn from his 5 o’clock shadow.  That would be hard to explain to Date #2.  His kiss was nice and we vibrated against each other.  First kiss nerves never go away, it seems.

I broke us apart and thanked him again for the great date and we promised to see each other again.  He brought my attention to the large bulge in his dark jeans.  “I sure hope it pleases you,” he said smiling.

I winked at him and told him I was sure it would.

I drove to Date #2 beaming, skipping across clouds like a naughty angel.

As I walked into the restaurant I felt my heart beating more quickly.  I saw my date out back on the patio and he stood to hug me as I approached.  Jesus Christ, he was tall.  I reached up, he stooped down, we laughed nervously.  “Well, hello,” I said, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

I could barely look at him; his long lashes curled to touch his cheeks and he looked like a kid.  I laughed and said, “Are you sure you’re 29?!  You look 12 years old!”  He blushed and lowered his chin and assured me he was an adult.  A 6’6 1/2″ adult.

“I get that a lot,” he replied in a deep, grown up voice.  “It’s the eyelashes, I think.”

“Yeah,” I laughed.  “Maybe.”

We ordered wine and soft-shell crab and blistered shishito peppers, though the chicken liver mousse was our favorite.  Turns out he, too, is looking for a steady, lovely, sexy, passionate, brunch-going type of relationship.  Too bad he lives an hour away. But then again, maybe it’s a perfectly built-in speed bump.  I don’t know.

On our way to my favorite watering hole I laughed until I cried when I realized his feet were as long as my femur.  “Can you see this?” I guffawed as I pressed a shoe of his to my leg. “You’re a giant!”  He grinned sheepishly while I teased him, but was happy to hold me close as we walked up the hill from our parking spot.  I forgot how amazing it feels to be with a gigantic man.

We ordered drinks and bummed cigarettes off our neighbors and with each drink we sat closer and closer until our lips locked and I inhaled his Old Spice and slipped my hand between his thighs.  He moaned and grabbed me and smiled into our kiss.

“Wanna come back to my place?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

He drove me back to my car and followed me home and seconds after he walked through the door we were writhing on the couch.  His sheer size pushed me down into the cushions and his mouth moved across my neck and breasts with a reckless first-date fervor.

I led him into my dark room and we found ourselves tangled in clothes, then just limbs.  His face fell to my pussy and his fingers snaked inside of me.  I coached him on what to do with what, then relied on raw begging.  His hand slammed into me and as his mouth lapped at me I felt myself gush into his mouth.  He moaned and shivered and slammed into me more.

“Please,” I panted, “please fuck me.”

He stood up and grabbed a condom, rolled it on and positioned himself between my knees.  He pressed into me, but the erection had softened some.  I clung to him as he moved me about the bed and I could tell he was becoming frustrated with his pouty cock.

I pushed him off of me and bade him to lie on his back.  I removed the condom and began to suck.  A nice size, not huge like I’d hoped, but I knew I’d be able to feel him once I got him back in business.

I sucked and lapped and stroked and opened the back of my throat and kissed his pubis with a mouth stuffed full of cock.  His hands were in my hair and on my face and when he was hard as rock again we rolled another condom on.  He scooped me up and held on as he gyrated like a jack-hammer into my wet ass pussy.

I found myself squirting again and he moaned into my neck as he felt it between us.

He began to shake his head and I knew he was at odds again.

‘I don’t think I can cum tonight,” he finally said.

‘It’s ok,” I said stroking his head resting on my shoulder.  “There’s always tomorrow morning.”

We separated and he pulled me against him and I fell asleep next to a great big bear of a man.  I woke up a few hours later and noticed his feet were stuck through the bars of the footboard.  I smiled and got up, did my morning ablutions and quietly crept back into bed.

It was the normal thing to do after sleeping with someone: stay the night and wake up together.  I remember a time when that was common practice, though it hasn’t been in recent memory.  I either tear out of his room under the auspice of a dog who needs me or a bad back and when I have company over it’s during the day or morning so he could never accidentally stay over.  This was nice though, almost normal.

I fell back asleep almost instantly.

When I woke up a couple of hours later it was to the dog scratching himself.  I called for him to stop.  The Lawyer was disturbed now, too, and rolled to his side and pulled me against him.  I felt his morning wood for a moment then drifted off back to sleep.  The dog had begun to scratch again.

The next few minutes were spent drifting in and out of a lazy morning haze and commanding the dog to stop being so disgusting.  We laughed and wiggled closer whenever we could until finally I felt his lips on my neck and his hand on my breast.

I rolled to my back and kissed him, spread my knees and handed him another condom.  He was hard as a brick this time and I was dry and tight until I was hot and wet.  He came quickly on my belly just as I had asked him too and when he handed me a towel to clean myself up I asked him to lay with me while I came one last time.

His hand gently caressed my breasts as I held the Hitachi to my clit and I wondered if he’d ever seen a woman do this before.  I didn’t ask and he didn’t say anything.  I just let the buzz do its job and came quickly myself.

“When do you have to leave?” he asked.

“Thirty minutes,” I answered.  Peyton had a birthday party to get to.

We got dressed and I openly teased him about his towering height now that I was flat-footed.  “You know, 2000 years ago you’d have been earmarked for brawny work based on your size.  But you lucked out and got to be all intellectual and shit.”  He laughed and said he supposed I was right.  I’m sure all the village girls would have wanted him in their hut.

He said he wanted to see me again, thanked me for a wonderful time, and said his next two weekends were tied up with family and friend commitments.  I assured him we’d figure something out.  I hope that we do.


Some men are exceptional dates.


A few days ago after banter about an aging porn star, I found this note in my chat queue on Tinder:

“Haha so I just stumbled upon your OKC profile.  I must say, my initial impression of you just barely skimmed the surface.  To find a better example of a physical representation of a personality would be near impossible, in my opinion.  You definitely radiate bawdy, bold, and brash in a very sexy as fuck kind of way.  Well done!”

He picked a convenient spot to meet and was early.  I wore my California State flag t-shirt, knee-high boots and a short grey skirt and was unavoidably a little late.  My breasts jiggled against the low-cut and basically see-through material as I confidently pulled the bar door open and walked in having no idea what I’d find.

It took me a second for my eyes to adjust before I saw him at the end of the bar.  He was tall, had a climber’s build, and a thick, wild hairdo and clear, light blue eyes. He was better than I’d hoped.

We talked and laughed for an hour sipping drinks he bought us.  He noticed little things about me and asked about them and he looked at me as if he were memorizing my face when he didn’t think I was paying attention.  He’s The Neighbor’s age, though half a foot taller, wildly different in so many other ways, maybe the same in ways unseen.

I absent-mindedly gazed at the veins in his forearms, his lean muscles, and wondered how they’d feel against my naked curves.

We left the bar to walk a couple of blocks to where a friend of mine was having a jewelry trunk show.  We walked down a quiet, dark street and I imagined it’d be the perfect spot for a quick make-out session.  Nervousness radiated off of him in slow, rolling waves; not inappropriate, but to be respected.  I kept a safe distance from him and filled the thick warm night with small talk.

At the new venue I hugged Tina hello and she convinced me to buy a Mother’s Day card from her.  I introduced him to everyone I knew at the table by hers and bought him a cider and sat as close to him as I could.  It wasn’t close enough.

I could only manage to hook my foot on his calf as I pinched my shoulders together to accentuate my cleavage.  The humid night clung to my skin and I repeatedly tied my hair in a knot atop my head to allow my neck to cool.  He glistened under the strings of lights.

I lived up to all his expectations — exceeded them, even — he told me.  I blushed and flushed and leaned as close to him as possible, though we barely touched.  Just last night the Little Marine lavished me with compliments and I sucked them deep inside me like the eternal sponge that I am.  I’ll never tire of hearing how tantalizing I am to another human being.

We danced around what it is we’re both looking for only to discover it sounds like the same animal: a friendly, ongoing thing that’s not too serious.

Finally we acknowledged the time and decided to walk back to our cars.

Again, the long, quiet dark street and still no moves.  Standing awkwardly by my car he asked if I’d like to see him again because he would most definitely like to see me.  I said I’d love to.

“It’ll be a month or so,” he grimaced.  “I’m trying to be respectful of my ex…” his words tapered off as he referenced still living with his ex-girlfriend of 5 months.

“I understand,” I said smiling.  “Does that respect extend to kissing girls, too?”

His eyes opened wide and I reached out to his crossed arms and pulled him towards me opening his limbs to me.

“No,” he whispered as his hands reached up to cup my face.

I tilted my head back and parted my lips.  He nibbled and sucked at my mouth perfectly.  My hands rested on his hips, his muscles hard beneath my hands as I moved them up his sides just a little.

And then he broke it off and we thanked each other again and said goodnight.

I drove home smiling having no idea if we’re more than a match made on a random, sultry Thursday night in April.

I turned a first date into a threesome.

Thursday night I met Kevin. He’s 26, 6’2″, has a girlfriend. He’s a ridiculously nerdy fellow with an acerbic sense of humor and quick wit. We “met” on OKCupid weeks ago and our schedules were such that we had to wait for the holidays to pass. He asked me “High or low brow?” when we were trying to figure out a place to meet for drinks.

“High,” I answered.

We drank wine, chatted, and I pressed my calf against his. He looked at me meaningfully.

We decided to go back to his house. I sucked his extremely pretty cock, hot and jutting into my mouth and two fists. He poured me some wine. I took cock-sucking breaks to whet my whistle with the rich, fruity grape, then would dive back on.

He wouldn’t let me make him cum. He wanted to wait. But then, suddenly, we were willing, but not able: NO CONDOMS. So, I backed off some only occasionally dipping down onto his bobbing erection between stories.

“I have an ex lover in town who says she’s never been with a woman before. I think she might be gay. She never seemed to care about my cock.”

“Ok. Call her up. We’ll go to my place.” His jaw dropped. There was a long pause.



And just like that, the ball was rolling.

A few texts later we were all headed to my house (a house filled with condoms). I lit candles and put on Pandora. I realized I was nervous. I’ve had two FFMs in the past. One was a goddamned disaster wherein Troy and Lina left me out. The other was pretty goddamned great and I was treated with respect by that couple and the three of us devoured one another for 3 hours.

What was tonight going to bring? I’d only just met Kevin and the only thing I knew about this girl was that she was half black and half Mexican. I’d refused to look at pics because it simply didn’t matter whether or not I found her attractive. Let’s be honest: I’d fuck her anyway.

Turns out she wasn’t my type, but I loved her attitude. She was in my house less than 5 minutes before she was pants-less and in my bed. She peeled off my clothes and sucked on my tits. Kevin touched us tenderly, not wanting to get in the way of his friend’s first experience. I slid down her softness and spread her knees wide, dipped down. She tasted of pine.

I pulled her skin up with my left hand, her short pubic hair scratching my palm, and buried two fingers deep inside her hot hole. She arched her back as my mouth found her labia. I licked warmly, firmly, pushed my fingers against her opening knowing it’s the stretch that feels so good. I slipped in another finger. She moaned. And I started rocking my face on her pubis.

But the pine… it was odd for me. It distracted me. I won’t lie.

Meanwhile, Kevin had taken off his clothes at my behest. I wanted to lavish some attention on him, but she had other ideas. She flipped me over and without further notice dove down on me. She was awkward, but focused. I felt like something on her bucket list.

She didn’t last long. I lay there wishing she’d let Kevin show her some moves. But it was at this point that I realized the two of us, Kevin and I, were her play things. She wasn’t interested in a group effort; she wanted to get off on us and anything she did to us or with us was for her benefit. I chuckled inside and thought, Ok. Whatever.

When she was through licking me, Kevin gently pushed her to the side and put his cock inside of me. I would have been wet regardless, but the girl’s saliva made certain he had easy entry. It felt good. Really good. But she had other ideas. She pushed him off of me and clamored on top, pinning my hands by my sides beneath her weight; we were pressed tits to tits. She started to hump.

She humped the both of us to her orgasm about 4 times and each time neither of us (the humped) felt much. I couldn’t move, let alone get off. But, this was about her experience and about him getting to watch us, so I played along.

I came twice with my vibe, had to tell her to get off of me at one point because she literally couldn’t let me just be, and helped Kevin fuck her off and on. He’d go soft and say, “Hy, please suck me.” He already knew I could get him hard fast. I did a lot of cock sucking that night for him — and happily so — because whenever he’d get soft she’d complain and make fun of him. I’d look at him with knowing eyes. She also couldn’t help but smack his face. He didn’t like it, but he was patient with her. She was clearly in her own little world.

Finally, I was laying wrapped in my robe on Kevin’s left, she was on his right, and I was lightly scratching Kevin’s groin, avoiding his semi-hard cock. Then I felt it nudge my hand. I kept my nails digging in and cupped his scrotum. His cock surged. “Hy, don’t stop.” That’s when she noticed it and pounced on top of him. “No, you don’t,” he said and he flipped them over, with her beneath him.

I had perfect access to his sack and the base of his cock. As he thrust into her I held my hand against his balls and applied pressure. The perfect reach-around that no mortal could accomplish on her own. He came in 10 seconds and when he was done, he thanked me, not her.

They left and I washed all my bedding. Took a long, hot shower. The pine scent lingered.

I had fun despite the bulldozer that shared Kevin with me. She was eager and really pretty comical in her own sexy way. She’ll never forget me.

I’d do it again in a heart beat and I can’t wait to get that kid all to myself. We have a date for this Saturday.